This Too Shall Pass
by le-diagon
Summary: Takes the place after Kirby Plaza. A dark tale spun into a tangled web. Will Peter's seances work? Mohinder takes up a mysterious habit, but where will it lead him? Hiro meets a girl with a deep secret. Will Sylar fulfill the prophecy? New & better form
1. Of Heroes & Saviors

It has been only days since the incident in Kirby Plaza. Next to no one knows what actually happened that night, but word of a failed terrorist attempt in New York City has circulated internationally. Those who know that this is false dare not speak the truth. All that is left to account for the occurence is the mangled, unrecognizably burned corpse of Senator Nathan Petrelli. Today is his funeral.

The sky is dark and cloudy, threatens to rain, but holds out. The yellow leaves on the trees have all fallen and cover the ground like snow, as the autumn monthes proceed. Crowds of people stand around the coffin as it is lowered in the ground, about to be buried for all of time. At this time, there are those concerned for Nathan as he journies beyond, knowing that in his lifetime, he was not always honest. There are those afraid for themselves, afraid if their deathes may come untimely like Nathan, and those afraid of what they do not know awaits beyond.

There are a few, especially worried not enitrely about Nathan, but his brother, who seems to be taking Nathan's death the worst, and apparently blames himself for this wretched gathering. It seems unfair, even ironic, for him to feel responsible for the death of the one person, in all his life, that he unendingly, unconditionally and unquestionably loved sincerely. But blame is more of an opinion than a fact.

As the service has ended, the attendants leave to get into cars and drive away. Peter is walking off toward the limousine owned by his family, which his mother is sitting in, waiting. He walks slowly. A woman, about his age, catches sight of him and walks over to speak to him.

"Peter," she says from several feet away. He stops and looks behind and waits for her to come to his side. She looks him in the eye, contemplating words, for she knows the last thing he would hear is pity and condolences. After a short pause, she speaks, "If you, I mean...If there's any reason that, um...well, you know where to find me." He continues looking at her not moving, not saying a word. Deep inside, he wishes that there was something that she, that anyone could do for him, but nobody would understand. The fact is, however, there are things about this woman that Peter does not understand himself. She whispers a goodbye and walks away. Peter leaves to climb into the limousine with his mother.

- - -ONE MONTH LATER - - -

Hiro Nakamura falls into a field where cows are grazing. He sits up, brushes himself off, and stands up. He looks around and sees some comotion in the distance, and begins walking toward it. He gets closer and finds an open-air market where people are walking around buying, selling, and trading items like clothes, food and farm animals. Judging by their different clothes and that places like this hardly exist anymore, Hiro surmises that his is not in his own time. He walks behind a stand where no one can see him, and attempts to summon his power unsuccusefully. He tries again, but gives up after the third failure. He decides to find out where-and when-he is standing.

There is a large crowd of peoplein front of a small theater and finds himself looking upon a stage. A company of traveling performers are setting up for a play backstage as a pretty ballerina girl walks onto the stage. The men push and shout in excitement as the young girl begins to dance. Hiro watches as she dances with elegance and grace nad the men in the audience continue to create bedlam. Hiro tries to get their attention to ask where he is.

"Excuse me, sir" he says, poking a man next him's arm. The man gives him a dirty look and Hiro is pushed away by the crowd. He pokes another man's arm, asking where he is, but the man ignores Hiro. "Oh dear" he whispers to himself. Hiro is pushed around even more now and shoved out the back exit of the theater where the company has assembled small tents as temporary dwellings for its members. He stops to look around, as the ballerina stumbles out the stage door, looking back and giggling at the hollering men she has left in her wake. Hiro turns around just as she does and they are face to face.

"Hello," she says with a thick British accent. "Who are you?" she asks, looking at him quesitonably.

"I am Hiro Nakamura." Hiro tells her proudly.

"That's an odd name, Mr. Nakamura." she says. "Wait- you're Asian aren't you? You're the first Asian I've ever met! Very pleased to meet you! I'm Amelia Rosewood."

"Yes, nice to meet you, too." he replies. "We are in Britian, then?" Hiro asks, judging from her accent.

"The one and only, ."

"And today is...?"

"August 24, 1504. A Thursday." She stares at Hiro who has assumed a look of utter shock on his face. She smiles. "You're just adorable, Hiro Nakamura! Come with me!" She grabs his hand and pulls him off toward her tent.

A man sits alone in his apartment, staring out the window. He lives in New York City. He has his job, as a salesperson in a small shop. There is his cheery, though slightly senial nieghbor, who nearly insists he's the perfect man for her niece, no matter how many times he politely refuses to take her. And, there is the memory of hus dead father whose footsteps he walked in, only to lose himself in the obssesion. He grabs his coat and bag and leaves for work at The Moving Bookcase.


	2. The Calling

Peter Petrelli lays on his bed, waiting for sleep, or something like it, to take him. It's 2:00 pm, but there is nothing he feels he can do with the death of his brother looming in his every thought. The phone rings quietly, he ignores it, and the call goes to the answering machine.

"Hello, Mr. Petrelli? This is Victor Angoissant, I am calling with the New York Newspaper, I'm writing the obituary for your brother, Nathan Petrelli, and I-"the voice is cut off, Peter has picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he says solemnly.

"Mr. Petrelli? This is Victor Angoissant from-"

"I know, I heard your message. Just tell me what you want."

"Yes, sir. Well, I, uh, needed to know something concerning, well you know...I mean we already know a lot about your brother because he was a politician and everything, but we need to know the cause of his death." Victor says. The line is silent, so he continues. "I mean, no one has been able to find out and the doctor who administered the death certificate refused to tell us anything, Dr. Mohinder Suresh."

"Did Suresh tell you to call here?" Peter asks.

"No, sir, I mean, I can't tell you that but, if you decline us any information on the cause of death, O'm afraid the obituary won't print."

"It was my fault."

"What?" Victor asks, puzzled.

"It's because of me that Nathan's dead." Peter whispers in an almost sickly way. He hangs up the phone heavily.

At the Moving Bookcase, a store filled with historical books, classic novels and plays, encyclopedias, and first editions, Mohinder Suresh sleeps, seated at the cashier desk. The store is never very busy, and there is not much to do after reading's gotten old. A man walks into the store, but Mohinder doesn't wake up. The man leaves at the sight of him dreaming on the ebony desk.

An hour later, two girls walk in and see Mohinder sleeping. They giggle quietly and the npull out Sharpies from their bags and draw on his face. Once they've finished, they quickly leave the store, closing the door loudly behind them The sound wakes up Mohinder. He looks at the time. It's 5 o'clock, only one hour until closing. He glances around, then slides the pile of books next to him closer and opens the book on top and begins to read to pass the time, completely unaware of the drawings on his face.

Claire and Noah Bennet are in the car. Noah focuses on the road, Claire's eyes remain fixed on him. She is not happy.

"Why do you want to get rid of me again?" she asks with angst.

"It wasn't my idea at all. It was Lyle's brilliance." he jokes, smiling at her. She does not mimic the expression.

"I'm not laughing, dad." she says. "I don't want to move with this woman I don't even know, I want to go home."

"I told you Claire Bear, it's not safe at home. I know you think Sylar is dead, but I have this feeling that tells me he's not. Our home is the first place he'll coming looking for you. At least here he'll have no idea where your staying and you will be very well protected." he finishes, but Claire continues to glare at him, unconvinced. He turns back to the road.

They arrive at an apartment complex of modest standing. They go up in an elevator to the eighth floor carrying Claire's bags. The doors open to a long hall. They knock on the door 816, and a woman of about 28 opens it.

"Hey, Claire," she says. "Please, come in." And moves aside for the two to enter. "I hope you had a good flight."

"We did, thank you." HRG says with a smile.

"Let's take a those bags into the bedroom." says the woman, taking the bags that Claire is holding. She offers to take the ones HRG is carrying, but he declines and insists on helping her. They leave the room, closing the bedroom door behing them. Claire knew too well what that meant: they were discussing something concerning herself.

Claire looks around. The small apartment was not at all disorderly. The woman must have cleaned before their arrival. It is an ordinary apartment. Everything is what one would expect in an average apartment of that size. The walls were blue. The only great distinction there was was the pictures on the walls. They were all done by hand with various mediums, but none Claire recognized. There were many different scenes on the sketches and paintings, but, strangely, especially in Claire's mind, there was not a single wooden frame holding a picture of the woman or anyone who could be her family. Suddenly, the door opens and the woman and HRG walk out. Claire turns around to look at them and smiles politely.

"Claire," HRG begins, "this is Rosemary Vane. I know her through a work connection. She's agreed to look out for you," he tells her. Upon his last words, Claire has another unconvinced look. He continues, "...until I'm sure it's safe for you to come home." That look seems to be attached to Claire's face, but then, luckily, disappears for a repeat of her polite smile.

"Hello, Claire" Rosemary says.

"Hi," Claire replies. There is silence between te crowd. HRG, being a man, assumes there is some sort of female mind linking occuring, so he decides it best tp escape with haste.

"I guess I'll be going then," he says, interrupting the deadly quiet cadence. He looks at Claire. "Good bye, Claire" he says as they hug.

"Bye, Dad," Claire says, trying to hold back tears. "I love you." she tells him.

"I love you, too." HRG says back, letting go. "I'll be in touch," he promises, then turns to Rosemary. "Thanks, agains, for taking her."

"It's no problem, I could use some company, anyway," she says. HRG leaves the apartment and Rosemary locks the door behind him. She stands facing the door for a moment, then turns around and smiles brightly at Claire. "So, Claire, have a seat, make yourself at home." Claire sits down on the sofa, Rosemary smiles casually while Claire stares at her expressionlessly. "We could talk about this." Rosemary says helplessly trying to lighten the overwhelming awkwardness. Claire doesn't even blink. "No? Okay, uh..." She looks around the room, keeping the smile, desperate for something, anything to melt the ice between them. "Are you hungry? I could order pizza...Or if your, like, a vegan I've got the number of a place."

"I'm not a vegan. Pizza sounds good." Claire says with a welcoming smile, but that same upsetting expression.

"Alright, hang on." Rosemary walks to the phone and dials a number. She places the order. "Any toppings?"

"No, thanks." Claire replies with a quick smile.

"Ok." Rosemary says, happy that Claire seems to be lightening up. Just the prospect of pizza is enough to turn a heart of stone into gold. She finishes on the phone and walks back over to the chair.

"I like your pictures." Claire tells her.

"Thanks, I did them all myself." Rosemary says while sitting down, giving the paintings a quick glance.

"Wow. They're beautiful." Claire says with a sincere smile. "But, none of your family?" Claire asks.

"No...But I've got an album with some photos of them that I could show you sometime."

"Alright." Claire says nodding.

"Ok...So, do you want to watch a movie? I've got some, or maybe if you brought some, or if you want we could rent one."

"Let's see what you have."

"Alright. Come here, they're in the cabinet."


	3. Make No Bones

Mohinder arrives at his apartment. He just witnessed a lot of odd looks come his way, but can not understand for what reason. He walks into the bathroom and looks in the mirror, seeing that every single visage was justifiable. There were doodles covering his face. A heart unde either of his eyes, long cartoonish eyelash lines above them, and 'FUNNY' was written on his forehead in large, striking letters. How could he have let this happen to himself? He turns on the sink and begins to scrub, halfheartedly.

- - -

The next day, Mohinder comes to work to find the same desk awaiting him to sit down at, the same pile of books waiting to be reread. The dar drags on again, and as much as he tries to avoid it, Mohinder begins to drift off into sleep. H wakes up earlier than normal to the sound of the shop door slamming shut and his name being called.

"Suresh" the voice says. Mohinder looks up to see Peter staning in front of the desk. "Suresh" Peter says in that, very eerie, monotoned voice, as Mohinder starts to sit up.

"Yes? What is it?" he asks

"Did you talk that journalist about Nathan?" Peter asks with a look in his eye that tells Mohinder that je already knows the answer. "Did you?"

"Yes." Mohinder replies, trying to give the response a hint of defiance, btu instead it sounds like a mixture of being threatened and submissiveness. "But I didn't tell him any information."

"Did you tell him to call me?" Peter questiones, looking skeptical.

"No. I didn't, I swear. It was on his own decesion."

"Fine. But I had better not find out you are just telling me what I want to hear." Peter says after a short pause.

"You have my word." Mohinder offers, but it doesn't seem to be enough. Peter glares at him for another few seconds, then leaves the dismal shop. Mohinder looks at the clock. Still and hour and a half until closing time, but he considers leaving early. Thinking twice, he changes his mind, not wanting to give the store owner another reason to fire him, should he find out. Mohinder buries his face in his palms and waits for the minutes to pass.

"So, Mr. Nakamura," Amelia says with a bright smile, looking at him through the mirror of her make-shift vanity table. "Tell me something about you. Something that no one else has heard before! Mind, it doesn't have to be a secret or anything...Just something fascinating; something you'd ordinarily want to bring with you to your grave."

"Uh..." Hiro stutters, trying to think of anything to say at all.

"Mr. Nakamura, what do you think of this expression?" she askes, then moves her pupils to the corner of her eyes and smiles all-knowingly. Hiro examines the expression through the reflective glass.

"Uh...pretty...?" he says. She loooks at him and smiles.

"Oh thank you," she says with a standing up and facing him. "You're so clever, you know." she says, then gives Hiro a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come with me, Hiro. We'll find something to eat."

"Oh, ok..." Hiro says not knowing what else hw could do. They walk outside and begin to wander through a maze of tents.

"Hiro, you mist be my best friend. In fact, you are my only friend." she says. "I've known you for all of about half of an hour, but how ong does it take, right? Best friends are destined! Nothing will take you away from me!" She smiles at him. He tries to force one back. How long will he be here? Will his power ever come back? Should he hang around with this girl, or should he go? The smell of chicken cooking drifts toward them. No need to leave right away.

They arrive at a small clearing in the tent forest where the food is being cooked. Some of the other performers were lining up to be served. Some were dressed as warriors, several were nobles. There was also a group in gold leotards.

"They're in intermission. They're putting on Macbeth." Amelia explains. She points to the men and women in the leotards. "Those are our acrobats. They close the show." She lookes around the whispers into Hiro's ear. "Between you and I, they aren't very good." Three women dressed as witches walk by. One stops in front of Hiro and Amelia.

"Amelia! How are you, dear?" She sais looking back and forth and Amelia and Hiro.

"Kerishma, I am perfectly well. And yourself?" Amelia asks.

"Abominable, thanks. But, I knew I smelt new blood in the field. Who is your new friend here?" Kerishma asks. Hiro recoils at this slightly, thinking perhaps she may have been a real witch. But, if she was, it wouldn't be much a difference from himself.

"This is Hiro Nakamura. Mr. Nakamura, this is Kerishma." Amelia says and Kerishma smiles.

"Pleasure." she says, reaching out a hand to shake Hiro's, but he bows instead.. She smiles at Amelia. "Well, friends, if you'd like carrot sticks, just follow me." she walks away, and looks behind her, seeing they are not following, she waves goodbye.

"Kerishma is a vegetarian, you see. It's just bonkers if you ask me, but well...Kerishma is probably the smartest person in our company, so she wuld know best. Maybe I'd best become a vegetarian..." Amelia says. They get on line and the smell of chicken becomes stronger. "Perhaps not." She says with a smile.

They stand on the line for several minutes until they get to the fromnt where an ogre-like man is cooking the chicken on a giant barbecue.

"Load us up, Mr. Troll!" Amelia tells the ogre-man with a wide brilliant smile. He gives them each two pieces. "That's all?" Amelia asks in mock astonishment, "I thought you knew me better, Mr. Troll!"

"Sorry, love." He smiles and gives her two more pieces.

"Thanks!" Amelia says and she and Hiro sit down with the other performers at a long table. "His name is actually not Mr. Troll at all, but it is Jeremiah. Everyone calls him Mr. Troll." Hiro nods, accepting this explanation. They eat some of the chicken.

"He cooks very well." Hiro says.

"Yes, he does." Amelia agrees polishing off her second piece.

"Looks like Amelia's at it again!" a man shouts from down the table. A few other peformers laugh. Amelia glowers at them.

"They think the fact that I eat a lot is humorous, but, really, it isn't!" she tells Hiro, saying the last two words loudly. "They just don't understand me, though." she says putting down her half eaten third piece of chicken, and staring at the her palms under the table. After, a short pause, she looks up at Hiro with a worried expression and starts talking quickly. "I mean, tehy don't understand that I"m all bone and muscle. Also, I dance a lot, everyday. Of course I eat a lot! Why is that so funny?" Hiro looks at her.

"It's okay. I am sure they are only kidding." he reassures her.

"Yes. Yes, you're probably right." she says with a quick smile. "I'm not hungry anymore." she stands up. "Are you done?" Hiro nods and stands up too. They walk back to Amelia's tent.

Peter arrives back home after having set Mohinder straight. He takes off his coat and openes the refrigirator door. It is empty save for expired milk and cold pizza. He shuts the door and the phone rings. He amswers it with an indifferent hello.

"Mr. Petrelli?" says the voice across the line

"Yeah...are you that guy from the newspaper?" Peter asks recognizing the mysterious, enigmatic voice.

"Yes, my name is Victor Angoissant." he says.

"What do you want now?"

"It hasn't got to do with your brother's obituary."

"Well, then what?"

"Well, you see, you sounded pretty upset about your brother's death. I just got the feeling that you desperately wanted, needed a few more minutes with him." Victor says. "I know how to help you. You've heard of clairvoyents, haven't you? People who can speak with those who are gone. Most of them, are, in fact, charlatans but, there are those who are true. I, Mr. Petrelli, carry this power. I can help you talk to your brother."

"Really?" Peter says unconvinved. "And how can I believe you?"

"Why shouldn't you? Don't you think that perhaps some people, not many, but some are, indeed, gifted with outlandish powers?" Victor replies. At this, Peter says nothing. Victor has a power too.

"Why are you coming to me with all this?" Peter asks him. The griever, ordinarily, was supposed to seek out the medium. Not the other way around.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli, my prices are not something the average person can afford. I don't get the chance to utilize my gift very often. Also, my job writing obituaries, to be frank, as much pleasure as I get out of it, it isn't very good in regards to salary. You, being related to a Senator, should have access to all kinds of opulence, or at least you should now." Victor says with an evil guffaw. Peter pauses.

"When can we meet?" Peter asks.

"As soon as possible...Tomorrow at midnight, Central Park."

"I'll be there." Peter says and hangs up the phone.


	4. Impediments

Claire and Rosemary have just gotten everything settled. They've planned out meals they both like for the next week and have a shower scheduele charted. Now, they

sit across from each other in the small apartment kitchen at an even smaller table.

"Say, did you like The Hieress?" Rosemary asks, trying to make small talk about last night's movie.

"Yeah, I did. I never really watched an old black and white movie like that before." Claire replies.

"We'll we've picked a good one to start with. Monty Cliff is my favorite actor." Rosemary says. She and Claire smile, trading favorite moments from the film. "Alright. We've shot the breeze into a shriveling convulsing corpse. Let me explain somethings." Rosemary says, though she'd much rather discuss the movie more.

"Your Dad asked me to watch you for a while because he thought you'd be hidden and protected here. You see, I have this power that allows me to create a force field of sorts. Nothing can get through from the outside of it. I keep it up at all times, so no one can get through any door, window, or anything in this apartment. It's pretty much second nature keeping it up. It stays up even when I sleep. But, I haven't got complete control just yet. See when I get really excited, or upset, I have trouble keeping the force field up. So, if anyhting should go wrong, which I don't think it will, but, just stay calm, and stay close to me. Rosemary explains. Claire takes all the scattered information in.

"Okay. I've got it. Claire tells her. Rosemary isn't so bad, she supposed. A little weird sometimes, but at least she wasn't psychotic or grumpy. "One question: Am I allowed to go out?" Claire asks.

"Well why wouldn't you be?" Rosemary says and Claire smiles excitedly. "Of course, I'l' be coming with you everywhere, so don't get too excited." Rosemary says and smiles back. Claire understood this was all for her own good, and probably from her dad's commands, but she couldn't help but feel like they were controlling her too much, that she was suffocating...again. The pit of her stomach began to churn. When would this end? Would she ever know freedom again? Claire quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. She needed a distraction. She looked around the apartment, though it looked more like a prison cell now. The only thing that stuck out was the pictures, hung randomly on the walls. They were all very beautiful. One stood out in particular: a pastel drawing of Monty Cliff, who was in the movie. "What a great movie it was," Claire thought, and her misery vanished.

Peter is getting ready to leave his apartment for the park. He downs a mug full of hot chocolate, puts on his coat, and opens the door to the hall. On his doorstep his mail is waiting for him. Normally, he would throw it all on the pile of mail he never looks through anymore, but the newspaper is there today. He thumbs through it until he finds the obituaries section. Nathan's isn't there. There is, however, one each for DL Hawkins and Matt Parkman who both went down that day at Kirby Plaza. He skims the short articles. Turns out DL was a firfighter. Matt Parkman's said something very surprising: "Mr. Parkman is survived by his ex-wife Janice and hus son, Matthew Jr., whom the late Mr. Parkman had no knowledge of..." Peter was surprised at this, but decided it was an incosequential matter, and threw the paper onto the small pile.

He leaves the building and takes a cab to the park. Once there, Victor is waiting for him on a nearby bench. Peter walks up to him, and Victor stands up.

"Peter Petrelli? I am Victor Angoissant." Victor introduces himself shaking Peter's hand.

"I know. Now tell me how this is going to work." Peter demands softly.

"Well, it's very simple. It's just like the sham séances that were held frequently at the turn of the century. We take each other's hands and I will channel the spirits. You're going to have to lure your brother out, though." Victor explains.

"How will we do that?"

"Did you have anything of his that was especially precious? Anything he cherished? Anything at all." Victor inquires. Peter thinks. Nathan always put his career above everything, and despite his wealth, he never owned anything out of the ordinary, no tangible gold. "Nothing?" Victor asks noticing Peter's puzzlement. "Wait..." Victor begins. "I know something."

"What? How could you-" Peter says, being cut off.

"It's you! Ghosts will rush to the side of any loved one whose blood is spilt. Are you willing?" After a short pause, Peter answers with a nod. He will have to get around the regenaration power he took from Claire somehow. It would take a good deal of concentration, but he knew he could do it. He had to.

"Now, let's discuss payment." Victor says. "It's $800 an hour." Peter is surprised by this, but it doesn't matter. He nods again to agree.

"Can we start right now?" Peter asks. Victor smiles. He sorts through his coat pocket and pulls out a paper clip. He bends the end up and takes Peter's hand. Pressing hard against the palm, Victor slices Peter's hand and the blood comes, it takes everything Peter has to hold the power back. He grabs Peter's other hand and concentrates.

"There are many wandering spirits in this city," Victor mutters. "They can be bewildered easily. It may take some time for your brother to get here." Victor does not break his focucs. Soon, a ghostly figure emerges, seemingly out of Victor's body. It is difficult to see, but the figure looks like an older woman. It is definitly not Nathan, though. The woman's mouth begins to move and momentarily after, Victor begins to speak with a very smooth and caring tone to his voice.

"Helen, is that you? Where are you? I'm so proud of you, darling. I have to tell you the truth-" she is speaking through Victor, but is cut off as another ghost comes and she disappears. This time it is a man, but it isn't Nathan.

"Cecile!" he shouts. "Please don't marry him! I'm waiting for you." And he disappears just as the woman did.

"Peter?" comes Victor's voice. Suddenly, Nathan appears and Peter can not control his power anymore, the cut begins to heal.

"Nathan!" Peter cries. "Nathan! I'm so sorry, I never meant for this to happen! It haunts me everyday! I wish that I'd gone instead of you!" Peter says, suppressing tears.

"Don't say that, Pete." Nathan says through Victor. "I would have hated myself if I let killing half of New York rest on your conscience. Trust me, it's better off this way-" Nathan is cut off, disappears and another ghost emerges.

"Victor!" Peter says shaking Victor's hand in attempt to wake him up from his trance. Victor inhales heavily and opens his eyes. His skin was pale and translucent, almost see-through, but some humanly color was coming back.

"You okay?" Peter asks him.

"Yeah..." Victor answers. "What time is it?" Peter looks at his watch.

""1:15," Peter says.

"Let me see, that's...$900."

"No. I'm not paying that."

"Then don't expect to use my power again!"

"I wouldn't want to. I hardly spoke two words to Nathan!"

"That is not my fault in the slightest! Many spirits have something to say to the living! They're all fighting for that opportunity once it materializes!" Victor shouts, angry his pocket doesn't have floodbacks flooding it. "If I don't have-"

"Wait," Peter says calmly. He goes into his coat pocket and takes out his wallets. "I have $352 here. Come to the bank with me for the rest." Victor eyes him suspicously, afraid Peter may have mafia allies on rooftops waiting to point their cross bows precisely at Victor's heart.

"Come on," Peter says starting to walk down the path. "Come on, you can trust me, I still need your help." Victor starts walking with him.

"What made you change your mind?" Victor asks, curious because he never thought what he said would be enough to convince Peter.

"I have this idea," Peter starts. "What is when Nathan comes, we put a sort of force field barrier up to keep the others away?"

"That could work." Victor says after pondering it for a second. "But how would we do that?"

"Let's just say that you're not the only one with a power."

Angela Petrelli wakes with a start in her upscale New York City townhouse. She shivers from the frightening and unsettling scence that flooded her dreams, that were already developing a habit of repeating themselves gratuitously. The dream did not make sense itself, and Mrs. Petrelly was terrified by what she surmised from it. In the dream, she saw Claire. Not moving. Not smiling, she was dead. Rosemary is there, crying, and then Mrs. Petrelli is staring into the eyes of a madman. That's when she realizes it's her son, Peter. He is staring at Claire not breathing, Rosemary crying, but he seems, somehow, pleasesd, though he does not give anything away with the cold grimace on his face. He starts to walk closer to the two women when the dream ends abruptly, and Angela is left to speculate and wonder the worst. She picks up the phone on her night stand and dials quickly.

The phone rings. Mohinder answers it.

"Hello?" he says through the reciever.

"Suresh?" It's Mr. Wilkes, your boss." the callers tells him. Mohinder begins to fear for his job at the sound of Wilkes' voice.

"Is there anythign wrong, sir?" Mohinder asks trying to sound like nothing was wrong to begin with.

"Wrong? Well no! Actually, I've been invited to an event for rare book dealers in Italy. The bad news is I'm going to have to ask you to work weekends for the next two weeks.

"Will I be paid?"

"Of course you will! I'm not running a sweatshop!" Wilkes laughes.

"Time and a half, right? Because I'm already woking 50 hour weeks"

"Mhm...I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Suresh."

"Why not? Weekends are overtime for me.

"Yes, but considering the econoy, among other things, I just can't do it." Wilkes told him. It seened a reasonable answer, but Mohinder knew he was lying through his teeth. The store may not get much business in person, but the internet sales were excelling astonishingly. Not just in New York were the books being sold, but across the country and internationally. Mohinder should know, after all, he handles all the shipping!

"Fine." Mohinder mutters, not wanting to lose his job.

"Alright. Thanks a lot." Wilkes says, then hangs up the phone. Mohinder flings himself onto his bed and covers his face with the blankets. He is never happy anymore. There were countless moments when he feels the need to crawl into bed, just as he is now, and never come out again.


	5. Eleven Months Ago Part I

"Come on Claire, or we'll be late." Rosemary calls from the sofa, to Claire fixing her hair in the bathroom. She walks out and grabs her coat. Her hair is somehow perfect and Rosemary marvelled at the fact that perfect hair was actually possible.

They get a cab and head toward a nicer part of the city.

"What did Grandma say on the phone?" Claire asks.

"Just that she really wants to see you" Rosemary says with a smile. Claire eyes Rosemary unconvinced.

"You don't know the Petrellis. They always have a hidden agenda, especially when they call and invite you to brunch." Claire informs her.

"I know the Petrellis better than you think." Rosemary says.

"Really?" Claire asks surprised/

"Yeah, well..." Rosemaey begins, desperately attempting to recover the can of worms that had just burst open. "I'll tell you about it later." They arrive and the Petrellis' house and knock on the door, Mrs. Petrelli answers.

"It's so nice to see the two of you again" Angela says smiling widely. She turns to look at Claire. "Claire, I hope there's still a chance for us to grow closer, dear." Amgela says softly, expressing her grabdmotherly instinct.

"Of course." Claire says.

"I'm sorry to keep you out there, please, come in." Angela says, opening the door wider and stepping to the side.

"Thanks" Rosemary mumbles as she and Claire walk into the grandoise house. It is familiar scenery for both of them. Mrs. Petrelli leads the way through the house.

"I have coffee set up on the terrace, and the food should be done soon." Angela tells them.

"Sounds lovely" Claire says. They walk further into the house and through the corner of her eye, Rosemary notices something down an adjacent hall. She stops and looks closer.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Petrelli, if I could just excuse myself for a minute to use the bathroom." Rosemary implores.

"Of course" Angela responds. "I expect you still know your way around?" Rosemary nods. "Claire and I will see you on the terrace." Angela and Claire walk further on. The bathroom, Rosemary knew, was down the contingous hall on the right, but she instead she begins walking down the hall on the left. As she gets closer, she is able to positively identify the figure.

"Peter...? It's you isn't it?" she says. The person turns around and proves her right. Rosemary looks at him, noticing the torture behind his expression. "What are...where have yo ubeem? I haven't seen you since..." Rosemary stops herself, knowing the last place they met was Nathan's funeral.

"I need you." Peter says.

"What?" Rosemary asks, slightly puzzled.

"I need your help."

"Oh...um, with what?"

"I need an answer first. Yes or no?"

"I don't know Peter. I mean, what is it? Claire lives with me now for protection and I have to watch her all the time, Could she be included?"

"No. Absolutely not..." Peter pauses to think "What are you her guardian all of a sudden? She's not your responsibility, why should you cast those in your life aside for someone you barely know?" Despite his callous words, his quiet, hopeless voice did not shift.

"Don't be so cold Peter, she's your niece." Rosemary says. "And last I checked, you were not in my life anymore." Rosemary turns to leave, but Peter stops her.

"Wait," he says. "Please don't be mad. I'm sorry." Rosemary turn back around and looks at him forgivingly, but says:

"I'm not going to sit at home waiting anymore." And on the inside, she was smiling for all the valience of her words was worth. Her victory melted away swiftly, however, when Peter reached out and took her hand.

"So you don't have to. We had plans remember? It's not too late for that. Come help me, and we'll make the rest work after that. I promise." he sasys, and there is a hint of sincerety in the monotone.

"I can;t leave Claire." Rosemary says, though every cell swimming through her veins was begging for her to go with Peter. Peter was not satisfied with this answer, but was sure he saw uncertainty in Rosemary's expression, he decided to use this weakness.

"I'll call you in a few days. We'll talk then." he says, and Rosemary nods, eye fixed on the floor. Peter lets go of her hand, climbs out a nearby window and flys away.

- - - - - -

After the brunch, Claire, Rosemary and Angela begin to turn through the corridors of the house again. Following Angela to the door, Claire and Rosemary trail behind a bit.

"You see, Claire? Just a nice brunch with Grandma. No conspiracies." Rosemary whispers to Claire, glad to push Peter out of her brain.

"I guess so." Claire says, and she's somehow upset that there isn't anything odd or outlandish going on with her long-lost family. She was hungry for something more, something bigger to live for. Mrs. Petrelli reaches the door and opens it. Claire kisses her on the cheek, says goodbye and walks out. Rosemary walks up to Angela and starts to thank her when Angela stops her.

"I have to talk to you." she whispers to Rosemary. Claire turns around having noticed that Rosemary isn't beside her. She smiles seeing Mrs. Petrelli whispering to Rosemary. Just what she's wanted! She walks a bit closer, subtely trying to hear things but can't. She'll have to beg Rosemary for details later.

"I saw something in my dream last night. It was a maddening vision, I had to warn you." Mrs. Petrellis begins. "I don't why and and don't know when what I'm seeing happens, but you are in it. You're leaning over Claire, she's dead, Rosie, dead." Rosemary is warmed by hearign Mrs, Petrelli's petname for her, but the feeling is immediately replaced with an icy shiver when Mrs. Petrelli says that Claire was dead.

"After that, I see Peter. My son. He is standing there, staring at the two of you. He looks somehow...accomplished. It's hard to tell after that, but he starts to move clser to you and....Claire, but the dream ends as he is walking. I fear the worst from him, Rosemary." Angela finishes. Rosemary stares at her. Part of her wants to dismiss this as a mourning mother's nightmare, and the other half, the gut instinct, say it's more than just that. "The last I saw Peter was...was Nathan's funeral. I'm assuming it's the same for you?" Angela asks. What could Rosemary say to that? It was obvious her meeting with Peter was delibritely clandestine, was it wise to divulge the secret and risk making Peter upset?

"Yes." Rosemary muttered. Her lingering feelings for Peter were digging themselves up. Who knows how many lies sheould would tell for him.

"Alright. At this point then, I would advise you to casually avoid him if he tries to reach out. It's horrible, I know, but this seems to be the best way. But one thing you absolutely must do is keep your guardianship of Claire a secret. He can not know about this under any circumstances. Do you understand me, Rosemary Vane?" Angela eyes Rosemary. She is skeptical as Rosemary nods in agreement. The look on her face means something but Angela is too tangled in a web of her own problems to notice. "I've worried about him this past month. I've tried to callhim, go to his apartment, several times, but he is avoiding me. I don't know what state of mind he is presently in. You must do as I've said, and tell me if you meet him and what come of it, as I will do with you." Angela finishes. She's nearly frantic now.

"Don't worry so much, Mrs. Petrelli. I"m sure it was just a dream." Rosemary tries to reassure the poor, frail woman,

"That's what I tell myself about just about every single one that's ended up to be true." Angela says gravely. Rosemary and Angela linger in the doorway for a moment when Rosemary nitces Claire out of the corner of her eye.

"I've go to go." Rosemary says. "Please don't worry yourself mad. Remember what my power is. Nothing can touch me or Claire while I'm using it."

"True, yes. But last I heard you were still having trouble controlling it during time of distress." Angela says cynically.

"I'll do my best." Rosemary says after a short pause, a defiant twitch in her eye. "Now I have to go, Claire is waiting. Thank you for today." And she leaves without another word.

Mohinder is back at "Miserable" Bookcase, as he so fondly calls it in his head at times. No one has come all day. He is more alone than he's ever been ever. He reads the most interesting book in the store about black magic and alchemy. He's reread it time and again, but this is the one that never gets old. He is so absorbed in the sorcery on this Saturday afternoon that he's given a fright when the phone rings.

"Hello, Moving Bookcase." Mohinder says uninterested.

"Suresh!"" Comes the voice across the line. Mohinder rolls his eyes. It's Mr. Wilkes, the owner.

"Yes, sir?" Mohinder says trying to sound more lively, as well as sitting up straight as if Wilkes could see him from however many miles away he was in far off Italy.

"I'm glad I got you, Suresh. On top of your normal schedule and the two weeks of weekends you've volunteeered to work for me, I'm going to have to ask you for two more weeks of weekdays of presence at the shop. You see, I've booked two of the most demanded rooms in whta seems to be all of Italy and Switzerland. I couldn't pass up this opportunity so I'm extending my absecence to include a two week vacation with my daughters."

"With all do respect, sir" Mohinder says through his teeth. "But that's an entire month without a single day off! Surely I'll be getting a bonus of some sort?"

"No Suresh, haven't we already discussed this? I mean, I can bring you some biscotti home for you," he laughes. "But I haven't thta sort of funding at thte moment." Wilkes says. But Mohinder knows that the man's nose has just grown several feet. He had the money to send himself and his three daughters (Mohinder knew he had three because they were all in their local church's choir and Mohinder had to videotape the entire five hour concert, then make a montage of the best moments along with each girl's solo, to be presented to Wilkes to watch and seem as if he'd gone to the dreadfully boring event instead of clubbing with his 22 year old girlfriend. Mohinder only agreed to do it so he could escape another boring day at the shop), to Italy and have them stay at supposedly the nicest hotel in two countries, plus loads of other very probable frivolus spending in Milan. And yet, Mohinder was not going to get any extra numbers on his paycheck!

The thought brought Mohinder back about eleven monthes. He was still in India at the time, looking for work. He had an interview at the university tht would employ him intil he decided to move to America.

- - - - - -

"Mohinder Suresh! You're Shandra's son, correct?" the dean said, shaking Mohinder's suddenly limp hand.

"Yes, I am Mohinder."

"Very good. You know your father is a very good friend of mine." the deam began. "Tell him I'm still waiting for that cherry blossom from Japan." he chuckled.

"I'll be sure to give him the message. But sir, I have to ask one thing of you: Please do not trat me as my father's son. I am just another candidate being interviewed for the open teaching position in your school."

"I see." the dean said. "Well, Suresh, to be perfectly honest with you, if you were not your father's son, and, say, 'just another candidate', then I'm afraid you wouldn't have even gotten the interview." the dean informed him.

"Sorry?" Mohinder said, shocked.

"You're not at all experienced enough." the dean said.

"But if you were aware of who my father is?" Mohinder asked.

"Then I think I could give you the job." the deam smiled.

- - - - - -

"Suresh! You still there?" Wilkes calls through the phone.

"No." Mohinder said spimdly. "Imean yes...I mean...I quit."

"What?" Wilkes said, stunned.

"I quit." Mohinder said and hung up the phone. And for the first time in a long time, Mohinder felt happy. He looked around the store that, in all irony, he probably would have loved if it were not for such awful conotations to it. He grapped the dark magic book he'd been reading just before his momnet of liberation, and wrote a note reminding Wilkes not to forget his paycheck and the location of the key he was going to hide afer locking the door. He also wrote several less than moral parting words at the end of the note. Mohinder then walked out the door for the last time.


	6. Eleven Months Ago Part II

Amelia and Hiro had just arrived at Amelia's tent after a less than perfect dinner.

"Let's keep ourselves busy, shall we?" Amelia purposes.

"Okay...what do you want to do?" Hiro asks.

"Hm...well let's see, we could play war. Kerishma just gave me a deck of cards for my birthday two weeks ago."

"Happy birthday!" Hiro says excitedly.

"Thank you!" Amelia smiles. "Oh no, I know! We'll clean out my treasure chest!" she says and walks over to a trunk. She takes a necklace with a key attached off her nck and uses it to open the trunk. "It sounds dreadfully boring, I know, but I enjpy doing it. I collect something from every place I go, bought or stolen. Every so often the treasure chest gets rather stuffed, as you can see. So I sort out what I want and of what I decide was either bought in some sort of odd fit and what had best be forgotten, with which I should throw away or give as a gifts." Amelia says.

"Have you gone many place?" Hiro asks.

"Yes. The company travels a great deal. In fact, we'll be off to Austria in just a week and half!" We never stay in one place for long, but we're talking an extended stay here in Britain because just about everyone has family who misses them here." Amelia says.

"Do you?" Hiro asks.

"No. No I don't. They...are not here." Amelia says. Hiro assumes this is an euphemism to their all being dead. She was obviously upset by the subject, a sad orphan?

"You know, my family and I are from Japan!" Hiro says trying to cheer her up.

"Really?" Amelia says. "What is it like there? I've not been outside of Europe to date, but I would love to see other places."

"Japan is very wonderful. You would like it there." Hiro says. Just then, Kerishma waltzes into the tent.

"Amelia, love!" she calls. "Is it true what I've heard?" Amelia stands up and takes her hands.

"Well, that depends, what ever did you here?" Amelia asks.

"That Lady Adaline will be coming by tonight to speak with you about switching times with the acrobats!"

"What?" Amelia says very excited.

"It is what I've heard!" Kerishma exclaims. They giggle in excitement A tall, slender man comes into the tent next.

"Amelia, is what I've heard true?" he asks.

"Well, Sebastian, you're the second to approach me me about it, so I suppose it must be!" Amelia smiles.

"So...yes?" he asks looking quite confused. Amelia nods. "Well! Congratulations!" he says with a quick bow, then turns to Hiro. "And congratulations to you too of course. And welcome to our family!" He says shaking Hiro's hand.

"Thank you?" Hiro says puzzled.

"Hang on, Sebastian," Amelia says "What was it you heard?"

"Why, that you were pregnant and a small Asian man was the father." He replied.

"Oh! Well that's not true at all! From who did you hear that?" She asks.

"From Percival and Kitty, they were telling everyone during dinner."

"Tell everyone the truth, please, Sebastian."

"Yes, of course." Sebastian says. He turns to Kerishma. "I was wondering if you would like me to walk you back to your own tent, Kerishma?"

"Yes, thank you, Sebastian." And they leave.

"Percival and Kitty are acrobats. The acrobats are always try to sabotage me." Amelia explains to Hiro. "It's terribly cruel of them. Jealous is a terrible thing. Love, however is beautiful, isn't it, Hiro?" She says, turning her head. Hiro is a little afraid by the look on her face. The acrobats' rumors might have put the wrong idea in her head, he thought.

Another visitor enters the tent. She is tall and pretty, wearing a very costume-y though very elegant dress.

"Lady Adaline!" Amelia says. "It is a please and an honor to have you."

"Thank you, child." Lady Adaline says lightly. "I've come to you on no whim, though. I have come seeking your aid. As you know, the acrobats are hardly the grand finale I had originally wished for my shows to be closed with. No one ever stays to seem them, in fact many will leave after intermission, or after seeing you. Which is why I have decided that from now on, you will close the show and the acrobats will open it." Amelia smiles largely. "But mind, you will have to start in four days time. Please be ready." Lady Adaline finishes, and glides back out of the tent. Amelia turns around to Hiro.

"It's all true, Hiro! I am now closing the show! The Grand Finale!" Amelia wraps her arms around Hiro and kisses him right on the mouth. "Sorry" Amelia says, blushing. He laughs a little. To change the subject, she says: "You know what, Hiro? I have this fantastic dress I bought in Paris last month. This seems to be the perfect moment I'd been waiting to arise to wear it! It is in my treasure chest somewhere..."Amelia walks back over to where she was sitting earlier in front of the trunk. "Ah! Here it is!" She holds it in front of herself so Hiro can see what it would look like on her.

"I like it!" Hiro smiles. They share a quick laugh and Amelia folds it back into the trunk for safe keeping. She pulls out a small journal and examines it.

"Hiro, I would like to tell you something I've never felt I could confide in anyone else. But I know that I can trust you," she says. She stands up and walks over to him. "In this book is a copy of a first hand account of the war 1500 years ago. My ancestors have been copying it over and over since my grandfather of numerous greats wrote it during the time it happened. The task has been given to every generation of sons to accomplish. It is a tradition as well as of historical importance seeing as all other accounts have been destroyed."

"If every son in your family copies the journal, why do you have to do it?" Hiro asks

"Oh, well...because my family had just daughters and since I am the eldest, it is my duty." She explains quickly.

"I see."

"Yes...That too is something I have never told anyone. I never talk about my family, and I have to tell you it is burning a hole in my chest. Do you mind listening?"

"No, not at all." He says.

"Well, about a year ago from next month, I ran away from my family. No, they're not dead." Amelia says reading Hiro's thoughts through the expression on his face. "Is that what you thought? I do try to make it seem that way so that no one will ask me about them. They did not understand me, did not accept me for who I was. So I left. I left them behind and did not look back. I'm not British at all, really. I'm Russian." She explains. Hiro is surprised to hear sounded so British, her accent was so strong. Could she really be Russian? There was a hole in her story, he suspected, or perhaps it was all made up.

Claire and Rosemary have just returned to the apartment. Rosemary has just finished telling Claire about what Mrs. Petrelli told her before they left her house. Despite the fact that it predicts imminent doom, laire is all but frightened.

"I can't believe this! Peter was always my friend! I wonder what's going on with him?" Claire speculates. She looks at Rosemary who looks worried and pale. Claire decides it best to change the subject. "So, uh, how is it that you know the Petrellis?" she asks curiously.

"I don't really know them that well, Claire." Rosemary says quietly, and sits on the sofa.

"Oh really?" Claire says. "You know your way around their house, you went to Nathan's funeral, you obviously know Peter, and Grandma kept calling you 'Rosie'! How do you know them? Are you actually my aunt or something? Separated from them at young age and only recently reunited?" Claire asks, and realizes she is no good at subtly.

"Something like that." Rosemary says. She pats the spot next to her on the couch and pulls a photo album out from underneath the couch. Claire takes the invitation and sits on the couch.

"I first met the Pertellis when I got a job as Nathan's secretary, about eleven months ago" She opens the book and finds a picture of herself and Nathan shaking hands. "Peter would come to see him quite a bit so, when Nathan wasn't around, Peter would just hang around the office waiting, and we'd just chat. Soon enough, he even asked me out. We got pretty close." Rosemary said as her finger tapped a picture of a Petrelli family brunch that she was also at. "Once Nathan heard, he said he'd fire me if I broke his brother's heart. He always said it as a joke, but I knew he'd probably do it anyway." Rosemary flips a few pages. On this page, there were pictures of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and other Italian sites. Rosemary's finger is on one of herself and Peter on mo-peds. "we went on a trip to Italy together" she told Claire "And, about of a month and a half later, he called me really excited and told me to get my coat and pack a bag.

- - - - - -

_There was a knock on the door, but Rosemary knew it was Peter._

_"Are you ready?" he asked. "Come on, let's go" he said and started off down the hall._

_"Wait! Where are we going? And how long will be gone?" Rosemary asked. She had packed a couple of outfits, but what if they were going to Alaska? And what if they were never coming back?_

_"We won't be gone long." He says, walking backwards._

_"Wait! Come on! Tell me where we're going." She says. Peter walks a back over to the doorway and tells her:_

_"I want to marry you, Rosemary." he says "And I want to go tonight." and she was taken over by spontaneity. They ran down the hall to the elevator, and pushed the button to summon it._

_"Wait" Rosemary says._

_"What is it? You forget something?" Peter asked._

_No that's not it...I have to show you something. I've been hiding it for about two weeks now, I haven't had the guts to tell you, I know I probably should have, but I barely understand it myself..." She was rambling. She lifted her hand and summoned her power. "Take my hand." Peter was confused, but did it nonetheless. As his hand inched closer to her's he was blocked by some sort of invisible barrier, that one could only catch a sight of in the most certain slant of light. He was only more bewildered by this. He stared at her as if she were some sort of freak._

_"What's wrong with you?" he muttered harshly._

_"Nothing. I mean, I don't know, I just..." she started by Peter interrupted her._

_"You're...you're...just stay away from me." he said terror stricken, and stepped into the elevator. The door closed and he disappeared._

- - - - - -

"After that, everything happened really quickly." Rosemary said to Claire. "Nathan didn't fire me, but he never treated me the same after that. Eventually, I quit. Later, Nathan called me to ask if I knew anything about Peter's 'banter' about having a power. I didn't know what to say, so I just said no. I didn't think anyone else had odd powers like me." Rosemary said. "Nathan, being the gentleman, tried to apologize to me and told me I should call Peter because apparently he regretted what he'd said, but I never had the guts. The next time I would see him was Nathan's funeral..." Claire stared at her in shock and wonder.

"I can't believe it..." Claire muttered.

"Yes, well I've got something else to tell you." Rosemary says. She had to tell Claire. "I saw Peter again today. At Grandma's house. I never went to the bathroom, I saw Peter down one of the halls and went to talk to him. He said he needed my help, but wouldn't say why. And...I told him about you, Claire. He knows." Rosemary said. And Claire began to grow a bit pale herself, scared for herself. Would Peter really try to hurt her? At the thought of how powerful he was, the color washed away from her face and she began to resemble one of Rosemary's paintings of a ghost with a shovel.


	7. The Hanging Man

Mohinder woke up to a beautiful day. The clouds were gret and covered the sky, and even though he was in New York City, everything seemed strangely quiet. The rain would stop tourists from entering the city that day, and would keep all others preoccupied on their destinations. He wondered why noboby likes the rain.

He took the book "stole"from the shop and began flipping through the pages. There were spells and incantaitions, but those things all seemes foolish to him. He was searching for something deeper. Something more tangible, something scientific.

And then he found it. A section of the book devouted entirely to Alchemy. All his life, it was understood that Alchemy, in essence, was the early formings of what is know called "chemistry". But there was so much more to it than that. This was, for Mohinder, was a way to change his life, or what he dragged out everyday presuming it was his own life.

But first things first. He looked through the list of concotions that he could brew. It was like recipes in a cookbook. There were potions for good looks, for luck, for death. After perusing the list, he decided to start simple: a love potion. He opened to the page he needed and rad the ingredients: Four leaves of dwarf lotus, one elecampane bulb, half a pint or dragon's blood. Mohinder gerw a tad discouraged seeing the need of dragon's blood. Where would he find that? Was this book serious? Mohinder decided to go look for the plants that were needed anyway.

The streets,of course, were busy, but not as packed as they usually were. In the phone book, Mohinder had found three stores that seemed promising. The first provided the elecampane blub, the second turned out to be a strip club, the third was just a block away from where he was standing. When he arrived, he asked the saleswoman if they any dwarf lotus, and was pleased to find that indeed they did. His horticultural expedition had ended in just an hour and twenty two minutes. He knew how long it would take him to find the dragon's blood, though.

Mohinder began racking his brain, when it hit him. There was a pet shop not far from where he was. He would buy a lizard, a chameleon-anything of "dragon" descent. And that's exactly what he did.

He ran home, gleeful and terrified of what he was gettig himself into. He hurried up to his apartment and locked the door, drew the shades. Pulling out viles and bowls from the cabinets, he followed the directions the book provided precisly. He diced the dwarf lotus, crushed the elecampane. Everything was in order, except the lizard. Mohinder looked at the small creature sitting motionlessly, save for its eyes-which were twitching back and forth, studying the new environment-in the plastic cage. He pulled out a knife and slit the lizard's throat over a large pasta bowl. And now he was just holding the lifeless body in his pulled the garbage pail out from under the sink with his foot and dropped the dead lizard in. After washing his hands, he lta flame on the stove to boil the blood. Once it started to bubble, he added the plants. The two plants let off vulgar colors as they liquified in the pot. And as excited by the experiment as he was, Mohinder almost had to force himself to continue, to go on and not slide down onto the kitchen floor and cry. The mixture began to turn orange, then yellow, then green, then blue. A dark blue. Mohinder's uneasiness began to dissipate. He took it off the bowler to cool and the second it left the flame, the potion turned clear and colorless. He smelt it. It smelt like peaches. Perfect! According to the book, this was exactly the desired result.

But who to test it on? The last he had any sort of contact with the female variety was back in India, and that was more than a year ago. He had not had any experience with the lady folk in America. And then a most brilliant idea came over him. He walks out of his apartment, and knocks on the door across the hall. The door opened and Mohinder was confronted by his evercharming neighbour. Her apartment smelt like feet and asparagus.

"Mrs. Beard!" Mohinder greeted her."How are you?" he asked, but before she could answer, Mohinder was talking again, his impulse made him forget all his manners. "Great, now I recall you asking me to take your niece out for dinner one day. Well, I just wanted to make it known that I'm avaiable." the woman's face broke into a great big smile, revealing two missing teeth.

"Oh, wonderful! I'll talk to her!" she said excitedly.

"Thanks. I'll see you late then, Mrs. Beard." Mohinder smiled. He turned and began to cross the hall.

"Okay. Bye now, Maximus" she said. Mohinder turned around.

"No, it's-" he began to say, but she shut the door already, so he did not geta chance to finish.

Hiro looked at his calculator watch. It was 2:24 a.m., but who knew if that's what time it was here in England in 1504. He could not sleep. It was not because of Amelia, who twisted and turned in her sleep, but because he was afraid he would never get home. He glanced over at Amelia. He could have sworn her hair looked darker, but it was probably just the lack of light. But she was definitely asleep. He decided to give his powers another try. He tried to transport himself outside the tent, but couldn't. He tried again, but it wasn't any good. He tried-concentrating very hard-a third time, and it proved to be the charm. He turned around in a circle and found he was standing outside the tent! He wanted to shout "YATTA!", but knew he couldn't. Instead he flailed/danced excitedly and whispered yatta. He was about to go back into the tent and to go back to bed (which was on the ground), when he heard someone around the corner of the tent approaching. Afraid of the prowler, Hiro picked up a stick, and hid. once the prowler got close, he jumped out in surprise attack.

"Stop, thief!" he whispered threateningly and pointed the stick out. The thief let out a gasp of fear, and Hiro noticed it was Kerishma from the dim lantern she was holding. "Oh. I'm sorry I thought you were a criminal." Hiro says, lowering the stick.

"Nope," Kerisma smiles. "You frightened me, though. Lady Adaline should hire you as Amelia's bodyguard." she joked. "So...what are you doing up?"

"Just...couldn't sleep."Hiro tells her.

"Yes, neither could I. Not after the dream I had." she whispers.

"What was it like?" Hiro asks. Kerishma pauses for a second, then speaks.

'Have you ever heard of autoscopy, Hiro?" she asks. He shook his head. "It is a word used for disembodiment, the soul seperating fom the body, I often experience it while asleep.

"I will see myself asleep as my soul departs, and then I am just soul and I fly to other places. Usually I fly home to India to see my family. Other times I'll be floating and seeing others I know, like Sebastian, who stays up late writing his own plays instead of learning his lines...

"But other times I find myself flying to Russia. I see this family...I don't know who they are, but they are good people. Although, through the times I have seen them, there is some secret they keep from the rest of the world; something they don't even talk about with one another. However; the it seems the father is sick and he may never get well again...I just feel worried for him, and upset for his family..." she says.

"I understand." Hiro says.

"It is strange though, usually I have some sort of connection to the people I see, but I haven't a clue as to how I might know this family." He had to tell Kerishma, but would Amelia be mad if he did? Just then Amelia came out of the tent Her eyes looked to be a very dark color, which was odd because normally they were a very bright blue. But Hiro dismissed it. It was dark out, and he hadn't slept, and his glasses needed a good cleaning.

"What's going on out here?" she questioned sleepily, looking back and forth between Kerishma and Hiro.

"Nothing really." Kerishma smiled. "Hiro and I just ran into each other on midnight strolls."

"Oh, I see." she replied yawning. "Well, carry on then."

"Wait," Kerishma says and held the lantern up close to Amelia's face.

"What?" Amelia asks in an odd, deep voice.

"The strangest thing...your eyes are a darker shade than usual...in fact they're brown; they are not blue at all!" Kerishma notices, puzzled. Hiro realizes now he couldn't have been seeing things. A worried look strikes Amelia's face.

"What are you playing at? Why, that's perfectly absurd! They are blue-just as they're always been." Amelia says and turns to reenter the tent, but Hiro grabs her arm and pulls her so he can look at her face. He stares into the strangely dark eyes. Kerishma stands behind Hiro and looks hard at Amelia, and comes up a revelation.

"They are the eyes of your father, are they not?" Kerishma asks. Hiro lets go of her. Amelia looks over his shoulder at Kerishma with a look of secretiveness, but says nothing. "Oh, Amelia! You must go to him! He is sick and I fear he may not recover!"

"How do you know of this?" Amelia asks almost angrily, her voice still sounding deep.

"I have seen him and the rest of your family in my dreams, just as I've seen my own! I know they are your family, those eyes are unmistakeable!" Kerishma replies.

"You have not a clue of what you are saying, Kerishma. Now I'm going back to bed." Amelia says, still angry.

"Amelia Bershadensky." she says. Amelia turns around. "That was your name, wasn't it?" Amelia's face has a worried look on it.

"...You say he's ill?" She asks quietly. Kerishma nods.

"You must go to him."

"But I can't! I am opening the show soon, I've been waiting for this!" Amelia says. "To go from here to Russia; by the time I return I will have been replaced! And who knows if I will even make it there in time?" She sits on a nearby bench. "But you are right, Kerishma, I miss them terribly: my sisters, my mother. It was because of my father that I left but, I can not just leave him with him thinking I do not love him, without him even seeing me once more. This may even be the last time I see him, if what you say is true. You are right, Kerishma. I must go. I thank you greatly." The last few words are even deeper, almost masculine. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I must pack.

There is a knock on the door. Mohinder gets his coat and opens the door. It is Alice, his neighbour Mrs. Beard's neice, just who he was expecting.

"Alice." Mohinder says and shakes her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, nice to meet you too, Milton." she says.

"Actually, it's Mohinder." he corrects her.

"Oh, I'm sorry! My aunt said otherwise-"

"It's quite alright" Mohinder smiles. "Now, shall we go?"

"Yes, let's." she says. Mohinder grabs his keys off the table next to the door and also the vile containing the love potion, and slips them both into his pocket. As he and Alice leave the building, however, they do not notice a small cockroach crawl out of a sewer in the road.


	8. The Trick

Mohinder pulls the chair in the restaurant out for Alice to sit. She thanks him and he takes his own seat. Mohinder orders the drinks, now all he needed was a way to slip the potion into her cup.

So they talked. And talked. And talked. Though he was grateful Alice was not quite as foul as her aunt, she was a bit daft and clueless, not particularly Mohinder's type.

But then-after an hour of talking about Alice's dripping faucet-she excused herself to the lady's room. "Finally!" Mohinder thought to himself. He waited a few seconds after she'd left then pulled the vile out of his pocket, looked around to make sure no one was closely watching, and pourred the solution into her drink. Her return felt terrible, as though it took ages. But of course, she did come back to the table. She sat down and smiled at Mohinder. But he could see right through her. Her eyes told him that as soon as they finished their desserts, she would leave. She took a sip of her drink. At last! She turned her head to the side so he could not see her make a face of disgust. The waiter brings out their desserts.

"Yum." Alice says smiling at Mohinder. He smiles back. Her mood had changed dramatically, the look she gave him to him that. The potion was effective! She still stares at Mohinder, that odd look in her eyes, as they eat their desserts. "Could I just steal a bite of yours?" she asks and leans over the table to take a large forkful of whipped cream from Mohinder's pie.

"Um...sure" he says. This is weird, Mohinder thought, this is love? Why had he not done more research? He had known from past experiments, though they were never of this nature, did not usually end nicely. He decided it best to leave the restaurant, just in case. "How about we get this wrapped up and you can finish it later?" He asks her.

"You mean at your place?" She asks excitedly in response. "Waiter!" She calls before Mohinder can say anything, and the man comes over. "If you could wrap this up for us?"

"Of course" he says. "Here is your check" he takes a small black case out of his pocket nad places it on the table.

"I'll pay" Mohinder says taking out his wallet.

"You're such a gentleman." Alice says and winks at him. Mohinder pays with exact change, putting the money into the bill case and leaving a tip on the table. Alice stands up and puts her coat on. "Let's get going then" she says and starts walking. Mohinder gets up and calls after her:

"What about the dessert?" She turns around, smiles mischeviously, shouts something dirty at him and continues walking. Mohinder's face turns scarlet and he begins to feel scared for himself. He walks quickly up to her, and she wraps herself around Mohinder's arm.

"I'm cold" she says, but he could feel the heat of her body. Were it not under such a strange happening, he might have been warmed by it. But it was not real love. She dragged him down the same route they came until they reached Mohinder's building. He had no choice but to let her up, he was afraid if he left her on the street she'd burn the entire building down just to force him out. When they reached Mohinder's floor, a scrambling noise could be heard, Mohinder knew it was spying through the eyehole in her door as she so often did. Mohinder unlocks his own door and he and Alice walk in. She flings herself onto the little couch and pats a small space next to her.

"Come on, there's plenty of room" she says smiling.

"Thanks," he says. "But I think I'll take the chair." He slumps onto the cushion-y arm chair.

"Alright" Alice says and stands up and walks over to the chair. Mohinder jumps up to avoid her just as she sits. He knew he had to bring her out from the potion's spell. But how?

I...I have to go to the bathroom." He excuses himself, goes into the small room and locks the door.

"I'll be here." She calls. Mohinder begins to feel nauseus. He looks to his right, and there, resting in his bath tub, is Sylar.

"You!" Mohinder shouts. He could not believe all this was happening. He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a pair of scissors for protection. "What do you want?" he says courageously. His blood was boiling, he almost missed his solitude.

"Wait, Mohinder..." Sylar stutters. The man was obviously weak. Mohinder put the scissors down, perhaps it was his doctoral instinct to cure all those in need, but Mohinder didn't think so.

"I need your help," Sylar whispered. He began to sit up, his bones creaked, and he moaned in pain. "What happened at Kirby Plaza...it took its toll on my body..." he began. "I'm dying, Mohinder, you have to help me!" There was terror in Sylar's eyes. Mohinder considered helping him for a moment, but decided against it. He knew how dangerous Sylar was. The world would be better off without him.

"I'm sorry." he answers. Sylar's face twists into a contorted mixture between helplessness and anger, but mostly anger. Mohinder grows scared by this look, but it is not much at all compared to the terror that stops his heart when there's a knock at the door.

"Milton?" Alice calls. "What's taking so long?" Sylar looks to Mohinder.

"I'm sorry too," he says with a sly smile. "I didn't know you brought a lady home tonight. I didn't mean to interrupt." he said. Mohinder looked between Sylar and door. How could this be happening, he thought.

"If you must know she followed me!" Mohinder said. Sylar laughed, then groaned again. His smile did return, however.

"Just can't keep them off you, huh?" he joked. "Allow me," he said and motioned for Mohinder to move aside.

"No, Sylar, no!" he said. Sylar sighed, then nonchallantly flicked his fingers and Mohinder was pushed as if by an extraordinarily rugged wind. Another movement by Sylar and the door opened. Alice was standing there, she had unbuttoned a few of the buttons on her shirt. She was surprised by what she saw, but had no chance to react as Sylar used his power to lift her into the air and bring her closer, into the bathroom.

"Stop!" Mohinder shouted, he got up, but Sylar forced him back down. He hit his head hard on the hard tile, and the last thing he heard was Alice screaming as Sylar sawed through her skull.

Peter had just arrived home after another hardly successful seance with Victor. He would be tapping into his trust found soon since his savings were nearly extinct from all the sessions. He knew without money, Victor would not even speak with him. He also know that with Claire around, Rosemary would never help him. But he needed Rosemary. He needed her power. He couldn't use it himself once Nathan came. He wouldn't be able to control it, just like how he couldn't keep the cut from healing after Nathan arrived.

He didn't care if Claire was his niece, his own flesh and blood. He would do anything to get rid of her. He layed down on his bed and fell asleep. He awoke a few hours later, it was still the middle of the night. He looked around the room and there, sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed was Sylar.

"Sylar!" he shouted in surprise and jumped out of bed. Copying one of Sylar's powers, he pinned Sylar to the chair, making sure he could not move. Sylar shrieked in pain.

"Stop it" Sylar cried. "I'm weak! I won't hurt you, I swear!" the pain seared through his blood shot eyes.

"Shut up!" Peter shouted. "I should kill you!"

"No!" Sylar pleaded "No, please, don't!" He stared at Peter. Peter did not know that after Parkman had been been killed he'd stolen his power, dragging his bloody stabbed body across the plaza to Parkman's, just to get that power, despite the uncertaintly he, himself would even survive. He looked into Peter's mind, into his soul. "I've come to help you." Sylar smiled.

"What?" Peter asked puzzled. He loosened his invisible hold on Sylar who exhaled in relief.

"You want Claire gone," he said. "I want her power."

"How did you-" Peter began.

"It doesn't matter how I know. I can help you dispose of her." Peter pondered, seriously considered Sylar's offer. But he knew it was impossible.

"How would we get past Rosemary?"

"You'll take care of that." Sylar smiled.

Hiro walked with Amelia down a grassy path. They'd taken a boat to the Netherlands and were making their way through Germany. Hiro knew he should tell her about his power, he could probably transport them right to her home, but was afraid he would accidentally bring them somewhere much further. Aside from that, Amelias was very distant from him. She barely talked at all. She also seemed to have grown several inches in the several days they'd been traveling.

They walked a few more hours, then decided to stop as night was beginning to fall. They were eating some of the food they'd brought when Amelia stopped, saying she'd lost her appetite, which was odd considering she'd barely eaten a thing and normally she are two or three times as much as he did.

"Hiro," she said in that strange deep voice. "I have something to tell you." Hiro was prepared for her to say something like she had tuberculosis and now he'd probably contracted it. "I am not at all what I seem. My name is not Amelia Rosewood, neither is it Amelia Bershadensky." Hiro was very surprised by this. It seemed that night when they left the company that that was her name. "It's Nikolai Bershadensky. And I am not British, my accent is fake," she says and her accent becomes a very heavy Russian one. "I am Russian. My first language is Russian. But that is not all," she paused. "This is rather difficult to say...perhaps I will just show you." She begins to glow with a dim light. Her face begins to contort, and she grows a few more inches. Her whole body shifts and when the light faded, Hiro could she had transfigured into what could've been her male twin.

"Great Scott," Hiro whispered. The young man was tall and looked just like Amelia, but with darker hair and eyes, and more masculine features. Hiro stared, shocked, unable to believe what he was seeing, but then realized she, or rather he, had a power too. But this was extremely strange, especially for Hiro, Amelia had always been so girly, and she'd kissed him twice! The fact that she was truly a man a bit distrubing.

"I know this is odd, to put it simply," Nikolai said. "This is how I was born. But, on the inside, I feel I am Amelia! I had an arrange marriage, a very lovely girl, but I was just not interested in her in that way. I was interested in...another man...her brother, in fact," he said. "Well, when my father found out about...how I am, he was very upset. He did not even look at me for weeks! During this time, I discovered my...ability, and left." Hiro did not know what to make of all this, but then it became clear. He had to tell Nikolai about his power, despite the shock he was in.

"You have a super power!" Hiro exclaimed. "I have a power, too!"

"You do, really?" Nikolai asked.

"Yes! I am the master of space and time!" Hiro informed him. There was a rustling in the bushes nearby. Hiro and Nikolai quieted down and tried to see what it might have been,

"I think we should go," Nikolai whispered, but Hiro shook his head.

"A hero never runs scared! We must stay and fight!"

"Keep your voice down," Nikolai pleaded. "It could be Sylar!"

"Sylar?" Hiro said quietly. "But he should not even be born yet!"

"What are you saying, Hiro? Sylar has been alive for more than 1500 years!"

"...What?" Hiro stuttered.

"I will explain later, now please! Let's get out of here!"

"Okay," Hiro said. He put his hand on Nikolai's arm and transported them away. When he opened his eyes, he looked around. They were in Red Square.

"My God!" Bikolai said. "We're in Moscow!" He put his hand on a nearby wall, which was decaying a bit and had vines growing up it. "This is real! Hiro! That was remarkable!" A look of realization came over his face. "So that's how you got from Japan to Britain!"

"Yes," he said. "But there is more. I am not from this time. I am from the future! During my time, Sylar I killed Sylar in New York City!"

"You are The Hero that killed Sylar?"

"Yes," Hiro said proudly. Nikolai sat thinking for a moment.

"But Hiro...that doesn't sound like the future, it sounds like the past!" He said. Hiro could feel himself grow pale.

"But you said the year was 1504..." Hiro muttered.

"Yes, 1504 apres la mort, after Sylar became immortal and took the world into his hands. After the world passed into a Dark Age and began again." He explained

And Hiro thought he'd heard it all.


End file.
